


Gifted

by TaFuilLiom



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-25 17:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17125712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaFuilLiom/pseuds/TaFuilLiom
Summary: Ten months. She hasn’t seen Maggie Sawyer for almost ten months, since an unnaturally frigid February evening.Yet here she is on the other side of the door.





	Gifted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zennie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zennie/gifts).



> AU where Alex is a vet and Maggie is a K9 officer.

The problem with sweeping up the animal hair from the floor is that no matter how diligent she is, she always misses the tuft under the coffee table, or the patches hiding under the row of linoleum chairs.

Alex props her brush against the wall and smacks her hands together as she remembers her last client of the day. A little girl had cradled a tiny black and white kitten to her chest. She had found him out in the cold, braving the December chill and mewling from a soggy cardboard box. Her father had brought them in for Alex to check over, that was all, but she saw the look in his eyes when his daughter begged to keep the kitten. She saw the slump of his shoulders, the waning resistance.

Alex checked through matted fur, pretending not to hear the happy squeal from the girl, confirming that she was indeed getting an early present this year.

She finishes her daily cleaning routine of the surgery, thinking that perhaps the Christmas spirit is alive and well after all.

Then, just as she’s preparing to switch off the lights to the office and close up for the night, there comes a knock.

“We’re closed,” she shouts, picking up her coat and briefcase.

Another knock.

It had been a long day. Balancing a private surgery against being on-hand to check the division animals from the police station next door, always made for a gruelling shift. All Alex wanted to do was get home and enjoy the first night of Hanukkah with Kara and her mother.  

The third impatient knock saps the last of her patience. She throws her coat and briefcase onto the reception desk and storms towards the front door.

“We’re-” She yanks it open and freezes at who she finds on the other side. “Maggie.”

Ten months. She hasn’t seen Maggie Sawyer for almost ten months, since an unnaturally frigid February evening. Yet here she is on the other side of the door.

“Hey, Danvers,” Maggie replies. In her arms is her windbreaker, which seems to be wriggling.

“You’re back,” Alex manages, still not quite registering the situation. Ten months-

“No, actually, uh-” She peers into the squirming bundle, which starts to whimper. “I know you’re just finished up, but I need a favour.”

“Of course.” Alex steps back and lets Maggie in. “Go on through.”

Alex washes her hands and grabs gloves. She takes a deep breath to steady her pounding heart, and then follows on through to the examination room. On the stainless steel table, Maggie unwraps her windbreaker, and a furry head pops out. The German Shepherd pup blinks up at her, then looks at Maggie, and whips back to her in question.

“And who’s this little one?” Alex asks, tickling a gloved finger under the pup’s tan-tipped chin.

“A headache,” Maggie grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest, “Her name is Bingo.” At Alex’s raised eyebrow, she scoffs. “It’s the only thing she’ll respond to.”

While Alex maintains a private practise, she also has a contract to look after the dogs and horses that were housed in the police division next door. Maggie Sawyer is- was, she corrects - the best K9 officer that the division had. She and Maggie used to see each other every single day. They were friends, and in the moments where she got her hopes up, she thought they might have become more.

But after that cruel day in February, Alex got radio silence.

She focuses on the puppy, trying not to get overwhelmed by the surge of questions she wants to ask now that this woman is suddenly back in her presence.

“What seems to be the issue?”

“She was sniffing around the bushes by the back there,” Maggie says, indicating the window that looked out onto the training yard. It was pitch black outside now, and Alex’s heart throbs with guilt that she still wasn’t home yet. “She got too curious.”

Alex notices how the pup favours one forepaw, and lifts up the other in question. She hisses at the jagged thorn jutting out of one of the leathery pads. She scratches the pup’s head and then turns for her equipment.

For weeks following the incident at the Moxy Hotel, Alex wanted to see Maggie. Wanted to comfort her, check on her, just know that she was okay. The only news she ever got was Sergeant Turner telling her at the stables that Maggie had transferred divisions and that as soon as she got back on her feet, she wouldn’t be working as a K9 officer anymore. Just like that, Maggie Sawyer was out of Alex’s sphere entirely.  

“It hurts, I know it hurts,” Alex murmurs, gently tweezing the thorn as the pup tries to nip at her gloves. She glances up at Maggie, who seems equally unsure of what to say. They threw banter back and forth as if they had been lifelong friends. Now, the click of shifting paws on the steel table emphasises the awkwardness that permeates.

“I didn’t know you were back,” Alex tries.

“I’m not,” Maggie refutes. “This is only temporary. I’m assisting with training because they’re short-staffed. Once this bunch is through, I’m back to narcotics.”

“Right,” Alex says, butting back with the sharp tone. She disposes of the thorn, catching how Maggie gently tickles behind Bingo’s ear.

She isn’t sure she believes her.

~

A day from hell.

She had been called out in the morning for an emergency consultation on a poorly iguana at the National City Zoo. She had tried to explain that she was more catered to mammals, and that they needed to consult an expert in reptilian welfare, but the gameskeeper was ill and the security guard was an ex-cop. She was the only vet he’d known to call. She advised him to consult Google before calling the police vet next time they had a zoological emergency.

After that it had been a case of delivering bad news one family at a time. No one should have that kind of sadness around the holiday season, and it had chipped a piece of her away each time she saw tears welling up in a child’s eyes.

And all the time, Alex kept thinking about Maggie. When Patricia the receptionist was trying to tell her about results, or a family was trying to tell her about symptoms their labrador was suffering, she continually zoned out. She couldn’t focus on anything except that smile that made her heart race. The smile she had missed for almost a year-

A scraping at the door.

Alex grips her broom handle, stiffening mid-sweep. She wonders if she heard something.

But then she hears it again.

She creeps open the door, and finds an old shoe hovering in the darkness. Upon closer inspection, she realises that it is clasped in a puppy’s mouth. Before she can react the puppy darts between her legs and into the surgery.

“Hey, woah, no!” she says, turning to give chase.

It’s only when she’s done three laps of the coffee table that she realises two things. The first is that she needs to get back into the ritual of doing runs as soon as it’s light enough in the mornings, and then second is that she recognises the crafty pup.

“Bingo?”

The puppy bounces on her front paws at the name, twirling around with the shoe held aloft.

Someone appears in the doorway, peering into the surgery reception.

“There you are!” Maggie calls.

Alex runs up alongside the line of linoleum chairs after the excited clicking of paws underneath.

“I think there’s a hole in the fence,” she says, crouching down to see Bingo haunched in below the final chair, wiggling her hind in the air.

“Yeah,” Maggie agrees, joining her in a crouch.

Alex can smell Maggie’s perfume, likely reapplied after a day spent with dogs and kennels and sweat. She tries to focus on Bingo’s game, her tiny jaw gnawing on the filthy shoe, but just like the rest of the day all that fills her senses is Maggie.  

They reach in at once, but Bingo pounces out between them. It takes them a solid five minutes to catch her, and another thirty seconds for Maggie’s stern voice to convince the pup to give up the dirty shoe.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the gift,” Alex says, holding her side and wiping her brow, “But I would have at least expected a pair.”  

Maggie scoops her troublesome trainee into her the crook of her arm, and then disposes of the shoe. She scowls at the grime on her hand, and Alex jumps to grab her a wipe from the reception desk. Seeing that one arm is occupied with Bingo, she unthinkingly cradles Maggie’s dirty palm and cleans it herself. Carefully, she dabs it along the heartline, making sure to take away every speck.

Then she meets Maggie’s eye. She remembers the bang of the door, the panicked Sergeant Turner carrying the whimpering dog in. The thump of the body onto her table, no tail wagging, warm sticky blood all mottled into dark fur. And no Maggie.

No Maggie.

She clears her throat before stepping back. They dance around each other, Alex throwing the wipe into the trash and Maggie shuffling towards the door.

“Sorry for the disturbance,” Maggie says. That distance persists between them, as if they’re strangers now. As if seeing her was a nuisance.

“No problem at all,” Alex assures, trying to get the memory of her shaking, crimson-soaked gloves out of her mind.

“Hey,” Maggie says, turning at the door as if she’s just remembered something.

“Yeah?”

Maggie winks, sending Alex’s heart fluttering. “Happy Hanukkah.”

She’s off into the night before Alex can respond.

~

Alex’s next day is uninterrupted, but Bingo squirms her way into Alex’s life twice the day after that.

She steps onto the gravel drive, lets it crunch under her boots. She clutches her briefcase and prays for a quiet day -

And then hears a bark at her front tyre. Patiently sitting at the front of her car is a familiar face. Bingo proudly holds an impressively-sized branch in her mouth, huffing around it.

With a chuckle, Alex sets the briefcase down and clicks her tongue. The pup jumps forward snuffling around her hands and case, enjoying the scratches.

“I don’t have any treats for you,” Alex says, taking the branch from the pup and laying it at her feet.

Bingo circles around her, throwing herself down onto her back and leaving her tummy open for Alex to tickle.

“You’re very hyper for a police dog, you know that?” her muses, letting her leap back up into her touch, “But if there’s anyone who can train it out of you, it’s Maggie.”

They had met the summer before last, when Alex took up the contract with the division. She had been introduced to Maggie and Shep on a glorious July day. Officer Sawyer had stolen Alex’s heart with quips and touches and made her swoon with how well her uniform fit her. And Shep had been a delight. As Alex got to grips with the needs of the station and their animals, Maggie had been her guide, and Shep her secret favourite. If she slipped him a treat more than the others, it was only because of the beaming grin that Maggie would give her.   

Then, three bullets out of the dozens fired at the Moxy Hotel in a raid the following February changed everything. The first hit Maggie’s shoulder, the second hit her stomach. The third lodged itself just above Shep’s ballistic jacket, and the memories of that hazy summer evaporated into the grey winter day.

“Bingo!”

Alex lets the pup chew on her forefinger as the officer approaches, hands on her hips.

“What did she bring you today?” Maggie asks, her boots kicking at the gravel.

“Exactly what I always wanted,” Alex replies, “A giant stick.”

“She’s making up for the gift she missed yesterday.”

They share a laugh, breathy in the quiet parking lot. She cranes her neck back to look up at Maggie, and the ice that had frozen their relationship thaws.  

Alex gives the pup one last pat, and then stands. She lifts her briefcase, letting the weight of it anchor her as she meets Maggie’s eye. “If you don’t find the hole in the fence, she’s going to keep getting out.”

“Well, this rascal will be someone else’s problem soon,” Maggie says, before whistling and setting off towards the fence. Obediently, Bingo follows, pouncing along at her heels. Alex waits and watches them go, the tiny tail flicking in the air and Maggie’s hands deep in the pockets of her uniform.

She goes to work with a heart as heavy as lead in her ribcage.

She spends most of the shift with her head buried in tests and charts. In the late afternoon, she’s almost glad when Patricia tells her that the Hendersons and the Mackenzies have cancelled their appointments.

“Brian is requesting you go up to his farm again,” Patricia says, clicking at her keyboard.

Alex skims a green-tipped glove down the chart in front of her, and then makes two marks on a graph. “There’s nothing wrong with his chickens.”

Returning to her office, Alex leaves the side door open for ventilation. She flops down into her chair, smiling sadly at the small rainbow flag on the edge of her desk. It was Kara’s idea really, but Alex couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it. Now it stands proudly amongst the files stacked around it.

She flips up a chart and begins to methodically work through the results from several cases. There have been four poorly dogs that grew ill after their owners caught them lapping the fountain water in the park. She digs her thumbs into her temple, darting between the results and wondering whether it might be time to call the local authorities about possible contamination.

She almost misses the tiny jaw closing around the rainbow flag and swiping it from the desk.

“Woah!” Alex cries, leaping up out of her chair in time to see a now familiar puppy scampering out of the side door.

The winter day is already drawing to a close, but it retains a freshness as Alex storms out after Bingo. Credit where it is due; the puppy makes it all the way back to the fence, wiggles through the hole and the bushels, and stands proudly on the other side before Alex catches up. She peers over the fence, seeing the black and tan pup chewing on the pole, the rainbow wafting around its jaw. Bingo’s ears don’t yet stand on their own, flopping just like the flag as she shakes it about.

“Good girl, Bingo,” Maggie says. Alex has learned she is never too far behind, no matter how devious the pup tries to be. She pries the flag out of its jaw, frowning at the colours, and then raising an eyebrow at Alex on the other side of the fence.

She indicates the flag. “Is this yours?”

“Yes,” Alex says, shuffling her feet against the dirt at the bottom of the fence.

Maggie twirls the flag. It flutters across her hand. Alex can hear the barking of dogs in the kennels far off at the other side of the training yard. Behind that, there is the thundering of hooves. They must be training mounted, today. Still, the pulsing bassline below it all is Alex’s heart in her throat, always heavy, always ready to surge into her mouth.

“I started her on finding flags today,” Maggie finally says. She changes the direction of the twirl.

“She’s doing well, apparently.”

Maggie squints at her, fixing her there. She stops shuffling her feet. “Are you a supporter of LGBT animals?”

“What?” Alex blinks, and then shakes her head. “No, it’s for me.”

“Oh really?”

Her cheeks colour. She knows that even in the bleak remains of the winter afternoon, Maggie could see it. “My sister thought it would be good to have it up.”

“How is Kara?” Maggie asks, softening at the mention.

Once upon a time, Alex told Maggie everything about her sister. Her new job, adjusting to city life, complaining that Alex brought the mood down with sad stories from work. Alex would kneel, rubbing Shep’s thick fur and Maggie would absorb each detail of her anecdotes. Then, it was a ritual; a treat for the dog, a story for the officer, a smile for the vet.

Now, it’s a polite formality.

“She’s good.”

Bingo pants at her feet, tongue lolling out as she watches the interaction between the two humans.

The flag passes over the fence, hanging limp between them for a second before Alex takes it. There are nicks and grooves along the plastic from zealous puppy teeth.

“You know, I’ve missed you, Danvers.”

Alex’s head snaps up. Maggie has a far off look, gazing out over the training fields. Sergeant Turner whistles after two pups who seem to be chasing each other in circles.

Even in her profile, Alex sees the sincerity. She grips the flag tighter, the damp marks coarse against her fingers.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Maggie haunches down, stroking a flat palm along Bingo’s back. She seems to address the dog, but speaks loud enough for her to hear. “You know, it’s a shame that I won’t be seeing you on a daily basis again, but…”

“Maybe you could still call in once in a while.” The suggestion comes unprompted, but Alex doesn't retract it.

“Even animal-free?”

“Even animal-free.” Maggie tilts her head at that, and Alex shuffles her feet once again.

“Vets could use coffee once in a while,” Maggie says.

“Don’t know if I can trust this one to balance coffee,” Alex jokes, gesturing at bingo and trying to ease the way her stomach tightens. It’s like she can see the broken fractures in their friendship. This used to be the easier thing, to banter, to flirt even. Now she hates how forced her humour is.  

But then Maggie says, “Guess I’ll have to bring it myself.”

And with that tentative move forward, Alex wonders if they could fit the broken pieces back together.

~

On the fifth day of Hanukkah, Alex has a scheduled general check-up with all of the current working and active police animals. She methodically works through the active dogs; search, cadaver, and the ones specially trained for intimidation.

As she passes the new recruits, she sees the Bingo is chewing on a whistle. With a snort, she reaches in and pries it from the pup’s mouth.

“You’re going to be a very good search dog, if you ever manage to give the evidence back to your handler,” Alex says.

Moving to the stables, she saves her favourite mare until last. Red with splashes of white along her nose and hooves, Gertrude had been chosen for the division from a strong breed. She usually rests on the days that Alex does her checks. Today, however, she is fully kitted out for a ride in the yard.

Puzzled, Alex rifles the sugar cubes from her pocket anyway, shushing the mare as she nibbles out of the vet’s palm.

“She better be good to go, Danvers.”

Maggie enters the stable, riding helmet swinging.

Alex drinks in her appearance, recognising the different uniform. “Are you transferring to mounted?”

“I can ride,” Maggie says defensively, putting the helmet on and buckling her chinstrap, “I can even show you I can, if you want.”

Before Alex can even reply through the stuttering heat in her stomach, Maggie turns and swings herself up onto the horse. Gertrude snorts, clopping to and fro a few paces before settling.

“Be good, Trudy,” Maggie hushes, gently patting her neck and then taking up the reins.

Alex strokes down the nose of the horse, fishing one last sugar cube from her pocket. She tries to recall a single time in all of those daily meetings where she had watched Maggie riding.

“What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Working.” Maggie sits higher, rolling out her shoulders, “You?”

“Closed.” Alex draws the whistle out of her other pocket. “I’m guessing this is yours.”

Maggie reaches down for it, shaking her head. “She’s way too smart for something so tiny. She was darting around the stables earlier. The horses don’t scare her.”

Alex’s throat tightens. Shep had been spooked by the horses. It was almost entertaining to see such a terrifying attack dog who could take down suspects in a single bite, be reduced to a whimpering pup at the swat of a tail.

She helps lead Gertrude out of her stable, and with another huff, the pair are off. She spies a man entering the stables, giving Maggie a long look as she passes.

Sergeant Turner is a burly, seasoned trainer and handler with the NCPD. He had been Maggie’s mentor. Two weeks after the Moxy Hotel, when the plaque for Shep had been put up in the reception of the kennels, he confessed to Alex that he felt responsible.   

He lumbers down from the mouth of the stables, glancing at each of the horses before he joins her. “All finished?”

Alex consults her notes. “I’m concerned about Goldrush’s buckling knee. I think we’re gonna need another x-ray,” she says, clicking her pen in and out as she watches the swish of Gertrude’s tail. “Other than that, everything seems in top condition.”

“Good,” Turner replies. He scratches at the bristly mustache on his upper lip. “Can you believe she’s back?”

“She’s not back,” Alex says, tucking her clipboard under her arm as Gertrude starts into a trot. “She said it was only temporary.”

Turner raises a furry eyebrow, flattening out his moustache. “She’s back, Danvers. She missed the vet visits too much.”

~

“I’m beginning to think that she likes you, Danvers.”

Alex doesn’t register Maggie lounging in the doorway. All she can focus on are the jingles of the Christmas chimes through the speakers, and the German Shepherd holding a filthy, pink thong out for her to take.

“They’re not mine, by the way,” Maggie says, slipping her hands into her pockets and entering the surgery reception. “I’m more into the darker colours.”

Unable to reply at that image, Alex loses herself in George Michael’s annual lament about his broken Yuletide heart. She uses a wipe from the desk to confiscate the underwear from the pup and deposit it into the bin.

“Patricia insisted on the Christmas music,” Alex says, “She said it was getting too gloomy without it.”

“Well, nothing like the same twelve Christmas tracks to cheer everyone up.”

“Not that I don’t like seeing you two, but did you come around for something?”

Maggie seems to be here of her own accord, she’s lighter. Yet apparently, it is still too early in their repaired friendship, because she frowns as if stung by the question. “I used to come around all the time after your shift.”

Shooting her an apologetic look, Alex turns to close off the reception computer. Then, just before she switches off the stereo, the tingle of bells announce the beginning of the popular Mariah Carey anthem.

Maggie chuckles. “Remember last year when Shep howled at this song?”

Alex straightens up and sees it as clear as if it were happening in front of her now. They had wrapped shimmering tinsel around the dog’s collar, falling over themselves laughing as he howled at All I Want For Christmas Is You.

The image of the collar sticks, like a broken record, repeating and repeating. She had ever so tenderly removed it and clutched it to her chest in reverence when Shep passed.

As soon as she had word that Maggie was awake, she had gunned to the hospital, but the collar remained in her drawer.

“You know I never blamed you, right?” Maggie says, as if reading right into her memory.

Alex bites her lower lip, recalling the Valentine’s streamers and love hearts peeling from the hospital walls, not even removed from the week before. Maggie was pale and haggard from the turmoil of surgery and recovery, and yet still peered up at her with hopeful eyes. As Alex broke the terrible news, she was no different from any heart-broken child gripping their mother’s hand.

Even then, she felt like she had let Maggie down.

And now, with Maggie staring at her with that same intensity, the image of the collar surges into a tidal wave, sweeping her up into impulsivity.

“Listen Maggie, there’s something I need to give you,” Alex says, leading her to the office with a wave.

She hears the scuffle of Maggie hesitating behind her, but eventually the officer follows. As if she were in a rush not to lose her nerve, Alex yanks open her drawer and lifts out the item she has kept there for ten months.  

There’s blood long dried into the red fabric, staining it in ugly burgundy patches. Maggie’s eyes are fixed on it like she’s afraid it’s going to bite her.

“They didn’t know if you would pull through or not,” Alex admits, “So I kept it. And then I never got a chance to give it back.”

The nametag clinks as she hands it over. Shep. For Shephard, because he was plain and good. Maggie liked it, he responded to it, and no one gave them flack for it.

“There was this moment when I went down, and he was right there beside me. There was my blood, and his blood, and I looked right at him,” Maggie says quietly, her free hand roaming over her stomach, as if to clutch at phantom pain from that second shot. “And I reached out for his paw, and I knew he-”

She cuts off. The cheery Christmas tunes filter in from reception, like a far off echo.

“I took his paw, and I remember thinking…” Maggie lowers the collar, looking at Alex with cloudy eyes. “You go, buddy. Alex will take care of you now.”

As much as she can, Alex tries to float around the desk. She doesn’t want to disturb the atmosphere that has drifted down like a shroud. She feels like a kid again, she and Maggie hiding under the bedsheets with a torch between them, whispering secrets never to be mentioned again in the light of day.

“I knew he wasn’t gonna make it but I just…” Maggie shakes her head, and that is that. “Then Turner scooped him up and away. But for that one second, it was calm, and I had him, and he had me.”

Maggie looks at the collar. They both do, as if it could have a voice to speak for itself. A deep, shuddering inhale, and then Maggie wipes at her eyes.

“Then I passed out.”

“Maggie, I promise you,” Alex whispers, “I tried everything to save him, I swear.”

“I know you did.”

Maggie makes contact, clasping a hand around Alex’s elbow. Then a spark revives itself in her chest. The one that flamed during those hazy summer days. That hollow pain from being cut off dissipates, and those fractures in their friendship begin to fade.

“I never thanked you for visiting in hospital.”

At the time, Alex hadn’t known why she had gone to the hospital in such a fluster. Later, she knew that she had loved Maggie. It was love that had driven her to be by Maggie’s side as she woke up. It was love that had broken her when Maggie seemed to cease contact with her and the rest of the division.  

It is love, now, that sways her closer. That leans into that grip on her arm, wants to wrap Maggie up into an embrace and-

With a clatter, crash and a yelp, their moment is broken. A lone silver bauble rolls into the office.

They find the toppled tree, baubles scattered to all corners. Bingo is tangled up in the fairy lights, practically beaming up at them. They wrestle the lights out of her dark fur and start putting the tree back up. Their fingers keep knocking together as they place ornaments.

Alex wants to take the gold tinsel and hook it around Maggie’s neck, pulling her in for a kiss. But she doesn’t.

Before they go, Maggie pauses at the door, Bingo sniffing at her heels.

“This meant a lot,” she says, and then turns off into the night.

Alex doesn’t know if she meant the talk or the collar, but she doesn’t get time to ponder with Kara asking where she is. When she apologises and says she got caught up with Maggie, Kara replies with a dozen kissy-faced emojis.

She rolls her eyes and heads for her office.

~

After such a raw interaction, Alex isn’t sure she wants to see Maggie the next day. Like an exposed nerve, she doesn’t want to touch it.

Unfortunately, Bingo doesn’t give her a choice. Alex is checking an injury on one of the cadaver dogs when the tiny German Shepherd tries to wiggle her way into the examination.

Alex chuckles as Basil peers down at his young colleague with interest. “Where did you come from, hmm? You just seem to be able get into any space.”

A scrap of paper sticks to the side of her whiskers, and Alex plucks it off. She sees the remains of two typed words, as if from an official document, and narrows her eyes. “If you’ve been eating police files, Maggie is gonna be mad. And… definitely in trouble.”

On cue, Bingo lowers her chin to Alex’s knee and hiccups. Her ears flop with each one, a miserable look on her face. Only a whistle drags her up and away, bounding towards Maggie. Alex turns back to her patient, ruffing his chest fur as he leans off his injured paw.

“You search for those bodies so well. Yes you do.” She ruffles Basil's fur a little more to the dog’s delight. “You find them and catch the bad guys!”

Maggie stops beside her. “Danvers. Good to see you're keeping the morale up.”

“He needed reminding that he is a good boy.”

“That an official veterinary treatment?”

Alex stands, brushing off her knees. “I've prescribed three good scratch sessions a day, and a good boy every two hours.”

Maggie laughs at her ridiculousness, and Alex marvels. This Maggie rocks on her heels, hands in her back pockets. She is airy, and smiling, and those dimples that Alex hasn’t seen in ten months are right there sending her heart into a frenzied rhythm.

“How are you?”

“I'm good.” She holds up her wrist, showing off a new watch that Kara had given her just the night before. “Stylish and practical.”

“Nice.” Maggie reaches into her jacket. “You know, I’m surprised that Bingo didn’t steal this from me and show me up by giving it to you.”

Alex doesn’t get time to ask before Maggie is kneeling, a blue collar in her hand. Bingo circles around, and then sits, wiggling excitedly at her handler’s attention. Unclasping the collar, Maggie carefully fits it around the pup’s neck, making sure it isn’t too tight.

It is only when Maggie brushes the tan fur of Bingo’s chest that Alex pieces together what has happened. “You’re keeping her?”

Maggie nods, letting Bingo lick over her knuckles. “I got all of Shep’s stuff out of the closet last night and…” She shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe one day Bingo can grow into the harness.”

She hadn’t owned or handled or loved the dog, but she has loved Maggie, and this shift in attitude somehow brings a lump to her throat. Maggie stands to join her, and she fiddles with the new watch.

“You’re moving back to the K9 unit?”

Maggie smiles. She kicks at the dirt of the kennel, shyly looking away. “Well, I wanna be back with the things I care about, whether they have four legs or two.”

The rest of her day, Alex sings along to those cheesy Christmas songs on the stereo.

~

It is the last day of Hanukkah, and Alex learns that wishing for an easy day was bound to jinx her.

There are two large, filled tanks in the reception of police headquarters, and because of a rookie officer not knowing what exactly to feed them, they’ve all gotten ill. Some have already died, and others need rescuing from a state of distress. She spent her morning on the phone with a friend from college who works at the Star City Aquarium, and she’s done as much as she can for them.

When she finds Maggie fiddling with a bauble from the reinstated tree in the corner, she is still wearing elbow-length gloves and a black apron that smells of scales.

“Maggie,” Alex says, trying to wipe at her forehead with her shoulder.

“I just needed to see you and talk to you,” Maggie says, her fingers twisting together nervously, “I shouldn’t have cut you out after I was shot.”

Alex looks at the two soaking gloves, and then at the clock on the wall, and finally Maggie. “Look, Maggie, I get it. What happened was awful.”

“But I shouldn’t have cut you out.”

Lowering her hands, Alex shrugs. “It hurt. It’s weird having you back all of a sudden, but I like it. I missed you.”

“That’s the thing.” Maggie pushes her hair behind her ears. Bingo, uninterested in the humans, goes sniffing along the floor. “I almost died. And I was terrified that we’d gotten so close, and then it all happened, and Shep…”

She blows out her cheeks, stepping closer. “Before that, I know I felt something between us. I got scared that the day at the Moxy would change everything. But instead, I tried to live my life without you in it anyway.”

Alex is acutely aware of the stench of her clothing as Maggie takes another step closer. A nervous puppy had urinated over her shoes in the morning, and the odor from the tank clings to her very pores.

Still, Maggie presses on. “I can’t, Alex. I don’t want to imagine the rest of my life without you in it-”

“Maggie-”

A huffed bark brings their focus back to the puppy at their feet. She is almost sandwiched between their knees, startling Alex with how close the two women have become. In her mouth is a sprig of mistletoe that Patricia had tried repeatedly throughout the day to tack up to the wall of Alex’s office.

Before she can react, Maggie cups her face and pulls her into a kiss.

Alex stiffens, even as the other woman fills her senses with heat and want. She kisses back, as much as she can, but keeps her hands hovering in the air beside them. She tries to angle her body away from Maggie, who pulls back at the negative signals.

“Did I read this wrong?”

“No! No way. It’s just-” Alex holds up her gloves, still splattered with water from the tank. “I’ve been working all day. And I smell like fish, and blood and anxious animal urine and I just don’t want you to go home thinking about the time you kissed the fishy vet.”

Maggie laughs, and then leans in to kiss her again as if she’s forgotten what Alex just said. Unable to remain uninvolved, Alex lowers her arms and wraps them around Maggie’s waist, pulling her closer.   

She has been waiting for this since she met this woman on a bright summer’s day, and now she is finally kissing the woman she wants to kiss.

Maggie leans their foreheads together, mumbling, “Did you just put your fishy hands on me?”

“I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning,” Alex insisted, yanking her hands away. She strips off her gloves, throwing them into the peddle-bin. “Better, I’ll pay for dinner.”

“Dinner, huh?” Maggie says. Bingo tip-taps beside her, tail wagging at the recognisable word. Maggie grins down at her. “Oh, you aren’t invited this time.”

“We can’t risk you stealing the cutlery,” Alex says, leaning down to pry the mistletoe from the pup’s mouth.

Again ignoring the plastered apron, Maggie pulls her in for a kiss. Alex has to admit, out of everything she received that year, this was her favourite Hanukkah gift.

Neither of them can be upset when they finally break away at a rattling crash and find Bingo buried up to the neck in dog treats, having spilled Alex’s stash all over her office floor.

“She found them,” Maggie remarks, “Guess we could let her enjoy one or two. Christmas spirit and all.”

“She’s going to be an excellent search dog.”

Crunching on a treat, Bingo wags her tail. Her first week in training, and the little dog managed to find Maggie and bring her back to Alex.

The vet has to admit, she may have a new favourite after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas :)


End file.
